5.11.2006
Memory Lane
Take a few short trips down memory lane. Write the truth, embellished memories, or just make everything up! Use the starting phrases to get you started down the path.
I remember learning... how to cook pancakes back when I was ten or eleven or twelve or some relatively miniscule age compared to my current ancient number. My mom always made pancakes for us out of whole wheat flour and a bunch of other things that were heavy-duty and sat in your stomach like lead weights or a McDonald's Sausage Biscuit. You weren't going to be hungry for hours after eating a couple of them. There was an elaborate procedure that consisted of mixing about five kinds of dry ingredients, including baking powder (what's that for? I still have no idea), eggs, milk, vanilla extract, and a bunch of other things that I can't even pretend to remember. When heating the griddle, you'd wet your hand and then flick drops of water onto its stinky cast-iron surface. If they danced, you'd have to rush with the big bowl of batter and then drop three or four even dollops onto the griddle quickly so they wouldn't cook at different rates. I never got that part down. When bubbles popped on top of the pancakes, it was time to flip them. Of course, as thick as they were, the other side always ended up a little dark and slightly scorched, at least when I made them. Nowadays, I just use Bisquick with better personal results. Modern convenience tastes much better...
I remember biting... into an orange and nearly puking at the rotten taste. Oh, yes, it looked fine on the outside, but inside, yeeech! I wanted to vomit, but the best I could do was spit out the offending bit of flesh and try to flush out the taste with the bland wintergreen candy heart taste of Peptol Bismol.
I remember the balloons... choking the sky in a vast, transparent globular array of color. They were so beautiful that I wanted to jump up and float with them into heaven. I watched them drifting on the breeze up and up, taking their precious cargo with them: letters we'd all written as a class project. Three weeks later, my postcard was returned from a spot a couple of hundred miles away. I wanted to attach myself to a balloon and see where I ended up after the postcard came back. Maybe I'd end up in Hawaii.
I remember falling... in love with the Fuzz the first time I saw his little kitten-face. He was tiny and long-haired, a little brown tabby fluffball who I wanted to cuddle. He ran behind my stepdad's desk and hid for awhile the day the breeder brought him to our place. His beautiful amber eyes peered out and seemed to say, "Don't cuddle me just yet. Throw me a piece of paper first!"
I remember learning... how to cook pancakes back when I was ten or eleven or twelve or some relatively miniscule age compared to my current ancient number. My mom always made pancakes for us out of whole wheat flour and a bunch of other things that were heavy-duty and sat in your stomach like lead weights or a McDonald's Sausage Biscuit. You weren't going to be hungry for hours after eating a couple of them. There was an elaborate procedure that consisted of mixing about five kinds of dry ingredients, including baking powder (what's that for? I still have no idea), eggs, milk, vanilla extract, and a bunch of other things that I can't even pretend to remember. When heating the griddle, you'd wet your hand and then flick drops of water onto its stinky cast-iron surface. If they danced, you'd have to rush with the big bowl of batter and then drop three or four even dollops onto the griddle quickly so they wouldn't cook at different rates. I never got that part down. When bubbles popped on top of the pancakes, it was time to flip them. Of course, as thick as they were, the other side always ended up a little dark and slightly scorched, at least when I made them. Nowadays, I just use Bisquick with better personal results. Modern convenience tastes much better...
I remember biting... into an orange and nearly puking at the rotten taste. Oh, yes, it looked fine on the outside, but inside, yeeech! I wanted to vomit, but the best I could do was spit out the offending bit of flesh and try to flush out the taste with the bland wintergreen candy heart taste of Peptol Bismol.
I remember the balloons... choking the sky in a vast, transparent globular array of color. They were so beautiful that I wanted to jump up and float with them into heaven. I watched them drifting on the breeze up and up, taking their precious cargo with them: letters we'd all written as a class project. Three weeks later, my postcard was returned from a spot a couple of hundred miles away. I wanted to attach myself to a balloon and see where I ended up after the postcard came back. Maybe I'd end up in Hawaii.
I remember falling... in love with the Fuzz the first time I saw his little kitten-face. He was tiny and long-haired, a little brown tabby fluffball who I wanted to cuddle. He ran behind my stepdad's desk and hid for awhile the day the breeder brought him to our place. His beautiful amber eyes peered out and seemed to say, "Don't cuddle me just yet. Throw me a piece of paper first!"
